


Cruise Control

by lovehate_heartbreak



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boss Dearil (OC), F/F, F/M, M/M, Mafiafell- Modern Day, Maybe A Litte More Than Some, Monsters Have Been On The Surface For 30 Years, Near Death Experiences, Not Too Sure Right Now, OC Is Sassy But Smart, OC Secondary Characters, OC is a hybrid, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Paps Is A Bit Of A Douche Canoe, Sans is a smooth talker, Slightly possessive Sans, Slow Romance, Some angst, There will be a happy ending, Underfell Mettaton (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), but it'll be there, dunno when, eventual sinning, fluffy stuff, okay, soul bonding, soul mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovehate_heartbreak/pseuds/lovehate_heartbreak
Summary: Riff wasn't your average 25 year old. She owned and operated her own classic auto shop, went to college, and did charity events for the local at risk youths and children's hospital. But outside of her professional life, one would never know. She went to karaoke bars, clubs, enjoyed Saturday morning cartoons in her pajamas, and was a photographer.She was also a monster hybrid.Life was pretty calm despite the chaos until one night she went out with friends to the new Mettaton club. That was where she met HIM... And life as she knew it got a whole lot more complicated.





	1. Turn The Key

"Riff, come on! This place is supposed to be the best thing since MTT GloSphere! We have to go!"

Hauling her five foot two inch self out from under the hood of a 1955 Chevy, Riff grabbed a grease rag from the tool cart next to her and began to wipe off her hands with a sigh. Her friend, Maddie, had come yet again to harrass her to go out with her and their friends to the new dance club that was opening up the next evening. She knew why the red head was doing it, too. 

It had been ages since they had all gone out together and just had fun. Riff genuinely missed going out with her friends to dance clubs or to karaoke bars to drink and watch people sing badly... Or contribute to the bad singing. They used to go every Wednesday to karaoke and every Saturday to one club or another. It had been a blast!

But recently auto shops around the city had been broken in to and had thousands of dollars worth of equipment and cars stolen. The worst part was the cops had no leads and no evidence to even begin to point fingers at who had been behind it. Riff owned one of the only classic car restoration and repair shops in town. She had millions of dollars worth of tools, equipment, and client cars all inside the warehouse she owned. She was on constant alert for her security company to call her about any alarms that may go off. The company had been out several times in the last two months alone to do upgrades, install new sensors, and rewire the security to make it the best they had to offer. There was too much to lose if she became the next target.

While, yes, she most definitely needed a night out with friends to relax and unwind, she knew she would be constantly checking her phone for any missed calls or email alerts. It wouldn't really be much fun, and it would annoy her friends.

"Maddie, I told you already I just simply can't go." Riff shrugged and offered an apologetic smile. "I won't be able to hear my phone if it goes off while we're in the club. If something happens to the shop-"

"Your insurance will pay whoever got their ride stolen," Maddie ticked off on her fingers as she spoke, "replace any tools that go missing, and repair any damage done. That's what they're there for, bonesy!" 

Oh no... Not the nickname... She knew it tugged at Riff's heart when she did that...

"You need to go out. You have a near permament layer of grease on the skin and bones of your hands, your hair is lanky and dull, you have dark circles under your eye sockets which I didn't even know was possible for a skele, and you are starting to have frown lines at the corners of your mouth. You need this, SeRiff..." Then Maddie placed a hand on Riff's shoulder with a small smile, genuine concern shining in her blue green eyes. "Please... We're worried about you. Just one night."

Turning her head, Riff caught her reflection in the rear quarter panel of the old black Ford sitting up on the lift next to the car she had been working on. It was then she really studied herself. Maddie wasn't kidding. Dark purple circles marred the white bone under her sockets, her violet hair (while streaked with black engine grease and oil from working) lay flat and limp against her skull, her usually vibrant violet eyelights were dim, and her usual carefree smile was all but gone. 

In a word, she looked awful. 

The day to day stresses of owning and operating Dirty Girls Garage on top of constantly stressing about break ins really had began to take a toll. Riff knew if she didn't do something she would end up burning herself out far to quickly. And she had fought too hard for too long to get where she was now to lose that to what ifs and what might happens. So with that in mind, she turned back to her friend with a smile.

"Alright, you win," she sighed, "I'll go out tomorrow. I'll even take the day off to rest up and try to look more presentable."

"Awesome!" Maddie fist pumped the air in victory. "We'll meet you there. They have valet parking, so you won't have to worry about a spot. I'll make sure to get on the list so we can just walk right in." Her argument won, the red head practically bounced out of the open bay door behind her. 

Riff went back to adjusting the new carburetor she'd just installed on the big block engine. She couldn't shake the feeling there was going to be more to tomorrow night than just dancing and drinking.

\--------------------------------------

Anyone who knew anything about the MTT brand businesses knew the superstar monster robot loved things to be bright, eye catching, and loud. Most of his older businesses were washed in vibrant hot pink, black, and some red thrown in here and there for accents. The newer ones were a bit more subdued... But not by much. This club was definately an MTT building, but instead of the hot pink being the main color, black was building's color with hot pink and red accents and a hot pink neon that read "MTT CELESTE." Apparently Mettaton was really selling this as a cut above the rest of his high class, high dollar clubs. 

And it was working judging by the crowd of humans and monsters in the roped off que wanting entrance.

The midnight blue 1967 Ford Fairlane Riff decided to drive that night purred as she eased it up to the valet check in by the front door. It was a head turner on an average day to be sure. Now, it earned slack jawed stares and a few envious side ways glances. It made Riff feel good. She was never one to flaunt what she had, but the looks did validate all the hard work and passion she put into her profession. 

When the valet came to open her door, Riff stepped out and handed the keys over. "Please be careful," she said and pressed a fifty dollar bill in the monster's hand, "Park it as close to a security camera as you can. I won't tolerate anything happening to my baby."

"Yes, ma'am!" The calico cat monster said with a smile and handed her the parking tag to retrieve her car when she was ready to leave before getting in the car to go park it. Riff was tolerant of many things, but her cars were precious to her. There would be hell to pay if there was one blemish on the perfect paint of her favorite ride.

"Name?" A tall, burly human dressed in a three piece suit and tie and an ear piece in his right ear holding a clip board asked as she approached the roped off entrance. Flanking him were two identically dressed, equally as tall but more muscular men, monster and human respectively, standing guard against those waiting to hopefully get in who were not in the list.

"SeRiff Fontesca." Riff smiled, but felt her heart hammer against her ribs. The man looked her over. She had decided on a V neck, deep purple cotton babydoll top that flared over her hips, a silver wide belt that wrapped around her waist, a pair of black leggings, and sensible black pumps. She had learned within her first few nights at clubs that heels, while sexy, hurt like hell after a while. Her hair was teased and touseled attractively, and a faint sheen of body shimmer caught the light on her skin and bone of her skull, clavicle, and chest. She could tell by his expression that she looked a bit out of place compared to some that had come before her, but she didn't care. She was dressed for comfort, not to impress.

What if Maddie hadn't been able to get them in? What if they were full before she called and they would have to stand in line like the rest? She wouldn't complain, but it would be embarrassing to say the least to be turned away after Riff had made a bit of a stir with her entrance.

Thankfully, that wasn't the case. The man pulled a bright pink sparkley wrist band from his pocket and fastened it to her wrist when presented. "First and second floor access only. Go to the VIP lounge on the top floor, and you're gone. Welcome to Celeste, Miss Fontesca."

The warning received loud and clear, Riff stepped beyond the lifted rope and entered through the opened door.

Now, she was no stranger to high dollar clubs. Despite their differences, they were pretty much all the same. Bars with top shelf, and sometimes exclusive, alcohol on every floor, the best DJs around, amazing food, and huge dance floors were the norm. But this... This was different.

The entire club was dark except for the back lights of the bars, DJ booth back lights, and lasers and the refractions of a slowly turning giant pink crystal that hung from the third floor played across the bodies of the patrons moving about the establishment. Tables were dotted along the edges of the massive dance floor, and a stair case flanked by more bouncers checking wrist bands was tucked over to the right. Looking up, Riff saw the floor design was rather unique. There was only one massive dance floor on the bottom floor with the DJ booth situated up on the second. The second and third floors were more like frames for the bottom floor. The higher one went, the more it looked otherworldly down below. Enticing a person to go and experience that for themselves. Music pulsed and moved through the crowd, inviting everyone who heard it to move with the beat in one way or another. A light haze of pink settled over the bottom floor made of magic mixed with pink and silver glitter suspended in the air that shifted as people moved about and gave just the right amount of feeling like one was in another world. Like one could get lost in there and be perfectly happy with it. 

Riff could feel the stress and worry of the past months begin to fade as she moved through the dark club toward the dance floor. She hadn't spotted any of her friends yet, but she had only half heardedly searched the poorly lit sea of bodies. Riff knew they would find her and probably drag her to one of the bars for a round of shots. She at least wanted to dance a little before she started drinking. Right now, the dance floor was like a siren. And she was the hapless sailor caught in the spell of its song.

Weaving through the bodies that moved and flowed with the bass beat, Riff made her way to the middle of the dance floor where she began to dance. It wasn't long before she got lost in the music and movement and felt the freedom of the world blurring around her. She hadn't realized just how much she missed this. Somewhere in the back of her mind she promised herself to not let life's stresses get to her as badly anymore. To do as she was doing at that moment: let go.

If there was anything Riff loved to do almost as much as working on cars, it had to be dancing. When she danced, the world blurred and melted into a kaleidoscope of colors and music. It soothed her SOUL in a way that usually only having a wrench in hand did. Her body moved and swayed with a mind of its own as she flowed from song to song with ease.

She didn't know how long she had danced or how many songs had played before she felt a hand on her shoulder. It brought her back to reality enough to realize this wasn't one of her friends. The hand was too big and boney. She didn't know any skeletons aside from those in her family, and there weren't many in her family to begin with. Turning around, she was greeted with a sight that make her heart pound and her SOUL flutter.

Oh, he was gorgeous.

Standing a head and a half taller than her was a skeleton she had never met before. He wore a black hoodie with a cream colored fur trimmed hood, a blood red shirt, and black jeans. A sharp toothed grin was directed at her as his crimson eyelights trecked down her figure looking her over. The dim light caught his smile just right to reveal a glint of a gold tooth in the right side of his mouth. He held a hand up to her in silence askance. 

A dance?

Riff shrugged nonchalantly and eased her bone lined hand into his. She didn't mind dancing with strangers. It was all part of the fun of clubbing. And, truth be told, she would probably kick herself to no end if she refused his offer.

A saxaphone blared the opening lines of the newest song. It was one of her favorites that was played on occasion. "She Wants Me Dead" gave a welcome change to the typical club techno music, and found her new dance partner moved with ease to the techno-swing style of the unique song. He spun and stepped and glided with her with an easy grace. Did he frequent clubs often or was he just naturally talented? Hard to tell. If she didn't know better, she could almost swear they had danced before with how easily he read her movements and flowed with her.

The crowd around them moved to give them more room, but paid them little attention. That was fine with her. It made it easier for her to get into the head space of following the steps of this handsome stranger. 

But it wasn't his looks or his moves that entranced her while they danced. Not really. It was a curious, foreign feeling in her SOUL that began to hum in her chest from the moment she took his hand. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. If nothing else, it felt warm like a blanket fresh from the dryer on a chilly morning, welcoming, and...

The song was over much too quickly and brought her out of her thoughts. He had her wrapped in his arms, face tucked into the crook of her neck, and hands splayed over her mid section. Intimate is what anyone who looked would see. It felt so nice and comfortable in his arms.

A faint, lavender blush colored her cheek bones as she eased herself out of his embrace. A small pang of regret thumped curiously in her SOUL, but she ignored it as she turned to face him once more. While she had in years past came to clubs to hook up for one night stands, this wasn't one of those nights. So why did the idea suddenly appeal to her so much? Maybe because it had been so long she just subconsciously felt the need for the stress release.

She shook the notion with a slight shake of her head, and stood up on her tip toes. The short half skele had to place a hand on his chest to stabilize herself. "Thank you," she said next to his skull so he could hear her over the music, "that was fun!" And in no way did she appreciate the feel of his thick, sturdy bones beneath the cotton of his shirt. Nor did her fingers flex ever so slightly just to feel the solidity of them.

Nope. That was all in her head.

“Anytime, dollface," his baritone rumbled into her ear and sent tiny shivers down her spine. She felt his grin widen against her cheekbone, and found herself in his arms once again, a smirk on his face, winking at her with that devilish grin. "Name's Sans, by the way." Riff swallowed a bit, noticing the way he was looking at her. 

"Riff. It... was nice meeting you, Sans." She said, trying to keep herself collected as she tried to free herself. If she felt reluctant Sans was more so, and begrudgingly let her stand once more. He caught her hand before she pulled too far, and grinned as she paused for a moment. But then she freed herself and retreated to the bar on the far wall. 

Oh boy... She had to get away from him.

But that strange feeling in her SOUL shifted to try and lead her back to him. 

She really needed a drink... And to find her friends…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome everyone to Riff's story! I hope you all will give her a chance and continue along with my half skele through her journey. I have to give a HUGE thank you to the lovely ladyjssem for being Beta to this first few chapters, and giving me the courage to post this story. She is an amazing friend for helping out she when didn't have to. Go check out her works! I promise you won't be disappointed :D. That being said, I am in need of a Beta to help with the rest of the story. Please let me know in the comments if you would be interested!


	2. Buckle The Seatbelt

About two hours after dancing with Sans, Riff sat on second floor in a corner booth talking and laughing with her friends. Apparently she had been early. They plucked her off the bar stool on the first floor almost as soon as she had sat down, and hauled her to the second floor for drinks. The music was quieter up there, probably by design to make the atmosphere more conversation friendly, and made talking easier when sitting a table. 

It had been just like old times. Their group consisted of Maddie and Kelly who were human, Doggi was a female dog monster, Pyre who was a male emerald green fire elemental, Jack the black bunny monster, and of course herself. They all sat around the booth joking and laughing and enjoying their drinks. Riff sat with between Doggi and Jack. The guys always insisted on taking the outside seats when they sat in a round booth. Something about "protecting their women." They all laughed about it, of course, but the women relented and gave the guys their sense of chivalry. 

"So, then I said, 'Next time you ride my ass at least have the courtesy to pull my ears.' Heh, that guy couldn't get away from me fast enough." Jack was telling another one of his stories. He was a funny guy most of the time, and always had an easy going attitude about life. Riff could always count on the bun to be there with a smile, some form of sweet concoction compliments of his family's bakery, and a hug if needed. She loved the big, black bun-bun with all her little skele heart. 

"Hey, Riff?" Doggi asked as her eyes shifted uneasily toward the bar. It wasn't unusual for her to watch everything that moved around her. There had been a time or two that the group had to chase the girl dog down because she went chasing after one errant thing or another. Riff looked over at her friend with a questioning hum as she drank from her Blue Valium. "Who's the guy eyeing you at the bar?" 

"Guy?" Riff held out a hand to Kelly to ask for a makeup compact. She didn't wear makeup, but it was something they did to look behind them without being obvious. At least the women did. The men didn't care about discretion. If they wanted to look, by the stars they were going to look. So when Kelly handed her a blush compact, Riff flipped it open and pretended to fluff her hair while using it to carefully scan the bar a few yards behind her.

The patrons were a mixed bag. The bartender was an attractive human woman with jet black hair and wore a hot pink button down beneath a black waist cincher. She was serving drinks to a human male and his bird monster companion. Others were a mix of monsters and humans doing anything from idle chit chat to drinking games to flirting with the most attractive person they could find. There was even a couple in the farthest, darkest corner making out like it was their last night on Earth. Nothing out of the ordinary to cause concern. She was about to close the makeup shell when she saw who Doggi had referred to. 

It was Sans. He was leaned back against the bar top with a bottle of mustard held loosely in his right hand and looking for all the world to just be relaxing and scanning the crowd. She felt the skin on the nape of her neck tighten with awareness. Somehow, she knew he wasn't watching the crowd. In the mirror's reflection, she could just barely make out his crimson eyelights trained on her. Watching her closely, and still with that devil's smile spread across his face. 

She snapped the compact shut as a blush began to brighten her cheeks and her heart took off to the races. What was it about that guy that got her so flustered? He was just another guy she'd danced with. There was no reason she should be acting like this. Like some teenage girl with a crush on the hot bad boy that rode a motorcycle to school. She wasn't an innocent cinnamon roll for stars sake!

So why did he make her feel that way? 

"Oh mylanta," Kelly giggled as she eased her makeup item from Riff's fingers. "Riff's crushing hard! Look at her blush!"

"Am not!" The hybrid denied a little too quickly then slouched in her seat. Five pairs of eyes fixed on her and made her blush brighten more. She was beginning to resemble a glowing African Violet. "You're just seeing things…" Riff grumbled her denial wishing for all the world she could melt into her seat.

"Look at her! She is totally crushing!" Maddie laughed and reached across the table to pat her hand affectionately. They were teasing her, she knew, but it didn't make it any less embarrassing.

"Huh, he is a cutie," Pyre purred and looked to Jack. A cyan smile split the elemental's usually featureless face and the two nodded in silent agreeance. "If you aren't gonna pounce, then I will." 

"Hey, you don't get all the fun." Jack chuckled and got up with his lover to go harass Sans at the bar. "Let's see if we can ruffle the fur of his jacket a bit."

The women all watched Jack and Pyre approach the bar hand in hand. Riff turned around in her seat to peek over the back of the booth, and said a silent prayer that her friends hadn't bitten off more than they could chew.

They watched as Sans nodded at the couple when Jack raised a furry paw in greeting. No one could make out what was being said, but the looks on all three male's faces and their body language said it all. 

Pyre must have began to lay on his charm the moment they got close enough for their target to hear while Jack backed up his partner's compliments with a seductive smile. Sans seemed to not be really interested, his eyelights scanning the crowd behind them to feign looking for someone. But his hand was noticably tightening by degrees on his mustard bottle. Riff could see the skeleton's patience for the two was beginning to wear out fast. Pyre then gave Jack a kiss on the cheek and stepped to the bar to speak with the bartender while Jack folded his arms and continued to speak to Sans. 

Whatever the bunny said seemed to be enough to set Sans off. His smile turned sharp and his eyelights disappeared. Riff knew that look. Every skeleton got that look when they were trying to be intimidating or had enough and wanted their space. And, hooboy, did he look intimidating and more! Jack blinked and gave him a nervous smile while holding up his hands in surrender. Then he looked over and waved Riff over. 

What was he doing?! She was trying to be inconspicuous and that bunny had just outted her! She ducked back out of sight and hoped Sans hadn't seen her. That's it. Jack was a dead bun-bun. 

"Here they come." Doggi warned as a sly smile spread across her muzzle. "Looks like we're going to meet your crush." 

"You're all dead to me…" Riff growled and grabbed her half drank glass. There was no point in trying to hide anymore. Better to face the teasing of her friends head on than cower because she can't get hold of her frazzled nerves. 

"Heya, dollface," Came Sans's rumbling baritone when he stopped at their table. "Was wonderin' where ya'd gone off to. Ya kinda left me hangin' on the dance floor." Then he slid into the booth next to her and rested his arm across the back behind her before leaning close enough to her that only she could hear. "Was wantin' another dance with ya." There was that grin again that made her heart race and her SOUL do flips inside her chest.

Jack and Pyre sat back down and made everyone scoot in toward the middle of the booth to make room. Riff was very much aware of just how much of Sans she was pressed against. Of how big he was compared to her. He was solid yet not uncomfortably so beneath his clothes, and his body radiated a comforting warmth that made Riff want to snuggle up against his side and stay there. If she weren't trying so hard to stave off her blush, she might have considered it. She might have even considered resting her hand on his femur just to see what kind of reaction she'd get.

Almost as if he could hear her thoughts his arm behind her came down and pulled her even more snugly against his side. His large hand wrapped easily around her waist and his fingers teased the hem of her babydoll top beneath the tabletop. She could feel the very tips of his claw like phallanges ghost over the skin of her lower abdomen every now and again, and made butterflies take wing and flutter in her stomach. He knew, knew what he was doing and how it affected her. He had to! Or at the least he was doing it tease and get a rise out of her. 

Well, it was working! But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing it. Nope. She forced herself to relax against him and make it seem like what he was doing didn't affect her. Her hands came up and rested on the tabletop. If he wanted to get something out of her, he'd have to work at it. 

"So, who might you be?" Maddie asked the large monster sat next to her best friend. "Don't think Riff ever mentioned knowing you. How'd you meet?" She took a swallow of her Painkiller as she eyed the skeleton. Despite the teasing, Maddie was very protective of her. After all, she had been the first real friend Riff made when she moved to the city five years ago with nothing more than a dream and more than enough ambition to see that dream become reality. 

"Name's Sans. Met Riff downstairs a couple hours ago on the dance floor," he shrugged as he leaned nonchalantly back into his seat. "She's a helluva dancer, 'nd made an impression on me. Wanted to get t'know her 'nd maybe see if she'd do me the honor of givin' me a few more 'fore the night's out." His compliment had a subtle, humble lavender blush grace her cheekbones as she smiled shyly and looked down at her hands. She wasn't all that good, but even she had to admit it felt nice to hear it.

"So you don't really know her?" Kelly's smokey blue eyes held no small amount of suspicion. Riff had to give the blonde woman credit: she could smell a creep ten miles off. If Sans had any ill intent toward her, Kelly would be able to tell. "What, did you see her on the floor and think she'd be an easy lay or something?" Her bluntness made Riff snicker behind her hand. She loved her friend's no-nonsense attitude. 

"What? No!" She felt Sans stiffen at the accusation as he growled out his denial. He sounded indignant that Kelly would accuse him of such an offense. "Ya think I'm sort of fuckin' sleeze lookin' for a cheap thrill? If that was the case, I'd've stayed on the third floor." His eyelights drifted down and met Riff's for a moment then shifted back up to Kelly. "Nah, was watchin' from up top, 'nd spotted this amazin' woman flowin' like water with the music. I wanted a dance, so I went down 'nd asked for one." He grinned wider at Kelly, his eyelights flaring for a moment to reflect how very much he'd enjoyed their first dance. "Don't plan on makin' it the last if I got my way 'bout it."

 

A female server came up to their table balancing a tray of drinks on her left hand and checked her ticket book. Jack and Pyre began to pass around drinks as they were handed to them until Jack paused with one in his hand, confusion clear on his features. "Hey, this isn't ours." He said and tried to hand it back.

The woman shook her head and held up a hand written note with what looked to be a phone number on it. "Jess told me it was for the lady with the purple hair. Some guy at the bar earlier ordered a drink for her and left this. Said to send it with the next round to your table." Her task complete, the server tucked her tray beneath her arm and departed to continue her duties.

"Looks like you got two admirers tonight, babe." Maddie's sly grin practically glowed in the dim lighting of the club. "Maybe it was a good thing I finally dragged you outta that auto shop."

"Shop?" Sans perked up and finally stopped fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Riff let out a slow breath that she'd been holding and looked over the note while Maddie and Sans talked about her garage. The writing reminded her of a font one would find on a writing program, but she couldn't put her finger on it. There was no name, just a phone number and a quick note saying, "Call me sometime, sweetheart." She turned the note over and even gave it a discreet sniff to try and lift a scent off it to locate potentially who it was. 

Nothing.

Well, whoever they were had good taste in mixed drinks. The blush colored liquid was a Dancing Dutchman: a mixture of vodka, rum, ice, and fruit juices blended in a blender until it made a slurry and topped with a lemon wedge. This one had a touch more strawberry juice in it and gave it a pretty pink blush color. Riff took a sip of it as she pocketed the note and gave a soft moan of approval that was drown out by the bass beat from downstairs. The sweetness of the juices danced on her tongue and took just the right amount of bite from the alcohol mixed in. 

Was it her imagination, or had Sans' hand tightened ever so slightly on her waist? Had he heard her? No… but he probably felt it. She took another sip from the tumbler of sweet goodness. It was the only thing that was helping to calm her racing heart. Not by much, but it helped. 

"Is that…?" Jack paused and everyone stopped and listened. Then five faces were split with wide, happy grins.

"Oh snap! It's our song!" Pyre's tone held a child like excitement as he and Jack got up followed by Maddie, Doggi, and Kelly. Riff tried to scoot around to the other side of the booth, but Sans' arm held her fast to her seat. What was he doing? She wanted to go dance with her friends.

"We'll catch up in a minute." Sans reassured Kelly, but the blonde wasn't appeased. He held up his other hand to silence her protest before it left her tongue. "I ain't gonna harm a hair on her skull, Barbie, 'nd I ain't gonna do anythin' she won't like." 

Kelly looked like she wanted to protest, and she appreciated it, but Riff waved her off. "I'm a big girl, Kelly. I'm pretty sure I can put him in his place if he does anything untoward." She chuckled a bit and nodded to the others that were waiting by the top of the stairs. "Go on. I'll catch up. Promise."

Kelly's face showed the war of emotions between her want to go have fun and her want to protect her friend going on in her head. Riff loved her for her concern, but she really could take care of herself. Plus, she knew how to immobilize Sans as effectively as a kick to the nuts of a human man if need be. In the end, Kelly nodded and left to go join the rest of the group. Riff watched them all go downstairs before she turned her attentiom back to the skeleton she shared the booth with. "So, what-hey!"

Sans picked her up and set her in his lap facing him. She had to have her knees on either sides of his legs just to be comfortable, and the position made her entire face light up with a bright violet blush. Oh boy, this was quite close. More than she'd imagined she wanted to be. But it felt…natural. Like she was always supposed to be there. His arms trapped her firmly against his chest as his head dipped down to the crook of her neck and growled low. The vibrations radiating through him into her at every point of contact. It made her shiver pleasantly.

"Now that we're alone," he rumbled against her neck and felt the hint of his razor sharp teeth against the sensitive flesh of her neck, "I gotta say that little moan ya made was fuckin' hot as hell. Makes me wanna find out just what it'll take t'make ya do it more." The tip of his glowing red tongue slid up the side of her neck and earned another, slightly louder moan from her. She felt his grin widen against her neck. "Ya look fuckin' gorgeous like that: head tilted back, sockets half lidded, 'nd yer magic flowin' 'round ya like a halo. But Imma patient monster. I can wait for ya t'be ready for me." 

He had sat back while he spoke to look over her, trailing the back of a warm claw down her cheek. She blinked her sockets to clear them of the violet magic that was slowly seeping from them. It was a rare instance that her magic sparked and flowed out of control. The fact he had done it so easily both thrilled and slightly frightened her. 

His grin became a gentle, genuine smile then, and made her SOUL nearly buzz out of her chest. He was stunning when he decided to actually smile. Her cheekbones were going to become permanently stained lavender if she didn't stop blushing like an idiot!

"I hope ya know that yer mine now, dollface," he growled as he pulled her even tighter against him. Not quite crushing her, but enough to emphasize his point. "'Nd I keep what's mine. No matter what."


	3. Check The Mirrors

Riff hadn't planned on staying until closing. When the night began, she had every intention of leaving at a decent hour (around midnight or so) and getting home to sleep. The shop wasn't open on the weekends, but she did have a personal project at home she tinkered with on her off days. But after she and Sans had went downstairs to join her friends, time had all but disappeared. She found she enjoyed herself to the point that she hadn't wanted the night to end. The music… The laughter… The dancing… Oh, the dancing…

Sans had gotten his wish and got his other dances. He showed her that he was a natural talent with dance. He used his hands and body to guide her from song to song. Their movements had been in near perfect harmony. There had even been a time or two Riff had forgotten where they were. It had been amazing to be able to fully let go like that. Truth be told, he had been the only one she'd danced with the entire night. Whether that was by his design or her friends just enjoyed seeing her let loose instead of being almost constantly stressed and didn't want to bother her she really didn't know…or care. It had been the most fun she'd had in a long time.

But all too soon the DJ announced the club's close and the floor lights came on to disspell the enchantment the club had cast on those inside. With a groan of disappointment, the patrons filed outside into the early morning air. 

Riff walked with Sans, his arm slung casually across her shoulders to secure her to his side, and her group of friends. Pyre held Jack up, helping the black bunny walk after he had one too many shots, and was walking him toward the valet stand. Kelly lived just a few blocks away with Doggi, so they both gave Riff a hug before departing into the night. Maddie had parked on the street and made Riff promise to come out more often. 

"I will." Riff reassured her with a giggle and watched as she flounced toward her Mercedes and drive off. Though when the next time she could pull herself away from work was the question of the day. Take away the break ins, Riff's shop was almost constantly full. So it required her full attention to run smoothly. 

"Here you are, ma'am!" The calico cat from earlier brought her thoughts back around to the present. "Not a scratch on her." He looked positively proud as he handed her the keys to her Fairlane. She smiled at him and slipped him another fifty before he bound off to go retrieve the next car.

"Sans, I can't thank you enough for tonight." Riff said as she turned toward him practically beaming. "It was so much fun!" Her SOUL had at some point finally decided to calm down and just be content with a subtle thrum that made her high with giddiness. Right now, it was light and hummed like a tuning fork within her chest, the vibrations feeling like tiny fingers dancing along her nerve endings. 

He walked her to the driver's side of the midnight blue classic, but instead of letting her go so she could leave, he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned in close. "I can think of a way ya can thank me." He purred, their mouths a breath apart. 

Violet eyelights searched crimson as Riff felt her throat work to swallow and her mouth become dry. She knew what he was asking for: a kiss. In her mind, she couldn't help but wonder just how that would work. Neither of them had lips, just maliable cartilage that covered their teeth when they weren't talking or emoting with their mouths. Then the mischevious side of her took over and made her turn her head just enough that she could peck him on the cheekbone. 

'Gonna have to work harder than that, boneboy.' She thought with a smirk and eased back from him so she could look him more fully. His expression said it all: disappointment, sure, but the challange she'd given him had been accepted. He seemed almost…pleased she wasn't so easily won. Sure she felt something between them that was more than fleeting attraction, but she wouldn't let it rule how she acted toward him. 

"Heh, yer somethin' else," Sans chuckled softly, amusement lacing his tone. He wanted to pull her close and give her a proper kiss. It was written all over his face. But he didn't give in. Instead he reached down and opened her car door for her. He didn't move, however; she had to duck under his arm to sit on the white leather bench seat. The car didn't have seatbelts as it was made in a year that didn't make it standard. Riff could see his displeasure etched into the frown as he searched for one. She couldn't help but giggle. 

"No seatbelts." She said and was answered with a snort.

"S'not safe drivin' without one." He growled and removed his arm from the interior to lean on the forearm of the same arm on the roof of the car. "Get some installed." It wasn't a request.

Riff scoffed and waved off his command. "That'll ruin the value. Besides," she winked playfully at him and reached down to adjust the bench back up so she could reach the pedals again. "that's part of the fun."

He grumbled incoherently, but didn't argue. Instead he straightened up and stepped back. "Don't forget t'call me, dollface." He winked right before he blinked out of existence.

She didn't have-

"What!?" It finally clicked into place. The drink with the note! She should have known it was from him. It was so obvious now! "You sneaky skeleton…" Riff shook her head as she pulled the door shut and eased away from the curb.

The drive back to her house was uneventful and gave her time to think back on the night's events. She was extrememly happy she'd decided to go out. Though, she had a feeling Maddie would have shown up at her doorstep and drug her bodily out of her house had she refused. It had been exactly what she'd needed. Sure she was still worried about her shop and had checked her phone almost as soon as she left the club for any pings from her security company. Her phone blessedly only had the random email, a few notifications from her Tumblr account, and suggestions for recipes from Pintrest. 

City light gave way to darkness as the Fairlane left the limits and entered the suburbs. Riff lived on a sizeable property half an hour outside the metro area. She preferred the peace and quiet over the underlying hum of the city. It reminded her of the small town she'd grown up in. The old saying "You can take the girl out of the small town, but you can't take the small town out of the girl" very much applied to her.

Her radio began to play one of her favorite Deadmau5 songs. She cranked the volume all the way up to max, rolled down her windows, and let the hammer drop. The big V8 under the hood roared as her car picked up speed. 

60…

70…

80…

The needle kept climbing as Riff expertly navigated the dark, winding road. She knew what her car could do and knew the road she travelled like the back of her hand. It was one thing she did pride herself in: she was a safe driver, but when no one was around, she drove like a bat out of hell. And only once had she even come close to wrecking. It sounded insane to others, but her cars "talked" to her. The subtle changes in the idle tone, the way the engine revved and calmed depending on how much or little throttle she gave it, the degree of resistence the steering she felt…It was all a language of cold steel, fire, and rubber that she had learned over years of working on and driving cars. It was why she was one of, if not the best at what she did. Why she drove with such unfappable confidence on a road most wouldn't dare do more than a few miles over the speed limit. 

As her home came close, she eased off the gas and onto the brake so she didn't have to drift into her own driveway. She had done that once when she first moved in, and… well, it was the closest to wrecking she had ever come. Something she wasn't looking to repeat ever again. 

 

The car turned onto the paved drive and wove through the wooded area with grace and a quiet rumble until the face of her ranch style home was alight from the beam of the headlights. She pulled the car around to the back and drove a little further to a large, six bay garage and hit the button above her rear view mirror to open the door of the Fairlane's bay. Once she had it inside, parked, and shut off, Riff sighed and got out to look over her cars. 

She owned all classic Fords from a 1919 Model T to a 1970 F100 pick up. She'd had a few Chevys and Hemi Dodges before, but there was something about the old Fords that just felt right to her. She even had an old 1978 burgandy and cream two tone Harley Davidson Electra Glide tucked away next to her Model T. It was the one that held the most sentimental value to her and was her current project.

Her father had owned it before he passed away with her mother. Riff could remember every time the old skele had taken her for rides on the hog, and cherished every memory it represented. Currently, it didn't run and still had the damage from the wreck that had claimed her parents' lives. She walked over to the dead machine and lovingly ran her hands over the bent and cracked chrome handle bars, forcing back the tears that threatened her almost every time she laid her eyelights on it.

"Come on, Lucy, talk to me." She murmured the name her dad had given the bike. He had always said it was his third favorite woman. She and her mom being his first and second favorite. "I want to help, but you gotta tell me what I need to do to fix you."

As always, the motorcycle was silent. She sighed and hit the button next to the door to close the Fairlane's door. The lights shut off when Riff stepped out and locked the door behind her. Later, after she got some sleep and was up and moving around, she would bring her laptop outside to do more research to try and figure out just why the old machine flat refused to turn over. She had torn apart and reassembled the engine more times than she could count and it still sat stubbornly silent.

Oh well. Right now wasn't the time to dwell on what she couldn't do. Unlocking the back door, Riff stepped into the mud room and toed off her shoes with a tired sigh. Her mind drifted back to Sans and pulled his note from her pocket. He had been confident, smooth, and had just the right amount of possessiveness to him that made Riff pause and take notice. Even if her SOUL hadn't been doing that funny thing all night she would have found herself attracted to him. There was something else about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on that said there was much more to him than meets the eye. It was the reason for the air of danger that seemed to cling to him. Had to be.

Riff shrugged and pulled her phone out to save his phone number. Whatever it was, she'd learn about it soon enough. It wasn't easy to hide anything from the half skele for long. She saved his contact info as "Smooth Talker" before turning the device off and heading down the hall to her bedroom. 

She yawned hard enough to pop her jaw as she stripped out of her clothes and flopped onto her messy bed naked as the day she was born. One of the many perks of living alone and having no close neighbors: she could be the closet nudist she was to her heart's content and not feel obligated to wear even a robe in case someone chanced a peek at her at the wrong time. So, after plugging her phone up to charge on the nightstand, Riff wrapped the comforter around herself and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

\-----MEANWHILE-----

"Man, dis place's gonna be a helluva bitch t'get inta now..." In the alleyway shadows across the street from an auto shop stood three figures. The one that spoke was a human man, average in height and weight, but smarter than he looked. He stood leaned against the brick siding of one building flanking them, hands shoved into his coat pockets, and a mostly smoked cigarette clung between his lips.

"Heh, means there'll be a fuckin' sweet ass payday fer us." A male rat monster slightly taller than the human chimmed in with a crackly, squeaky voice and wheezy chuckle. His yellow eyes gleamed greedily in the darkness as he eyed the next garage they planned to ransack. His rounded, tattered ears swivelled back and forth as his nose twitched, listening and smelling for any signs of trouble for the trio.

"Shut it, both o'yas." The third figure, an olive drab colored lizard monster that towered over the first two, hissed as he spied one of the two security guards round the corner of the garage tracking his flashlight to and fro. Even through the razor wire topped fencing they could see the guard was nervous. "We're jus' here t'scope out th'place. Not get made."

They had been watching this shop for over a month. It was the second largest in the city and held cars their clients would pay big bucks for. It would be enough for their gang to sit pretty for a good while, and pay off the cops to continue to play dumb. 

But right before they had put into motion to raid it, the owner had ramped up security. New motion activated cameras, flood lights brighter than the sun, double patrolling armed guards at night, trained dogs… There had even been several magical traps laid for anyone who didn't know how or couldn't detect them. It had enraged the boss to learn their target had gotten wise, but had ordered his men to begin watching the business. Any kind of slip up, any misstep by the owner or her employees would be exploited. 

The owner was a smart girl. She had thought of everything, and made the place as secure as Fort Knox on a Code Red lockdown. Even they had to give her credit. But every fortress had its weakness, and that's what those three were there to do: find it.

"'Ey, Boss Dearil wants us t'call it a night." The human spoke up as he turned back from checking his phone. "Said t'come back later 'n see f'we c'n maybe find an employee to buy."

The largest monster scoffed, but shrugged. Whatever the big guy wanted them to do they'd do, but they'd already tried that. The employees were loyal to a sickeningly frustrating degree. Only way they would have an insider was if-

His muzzle twisted into a yellow fanged grin as an idea struck him. "Tell Boss Dearil we needa mechanic. A good mechanic." He laughed out loud as they left the alley.

The sun was beginning to crest over the city, throwing golden colored light across the building and into windows to wake its residents. Early birds began to sing cheerily while Morning Glories that budded on their creeping vines bloomed to greet the day. And as that light hit the building the men had been watching, the "Dirty Girls Garage" sign that hung proudly on its eastern face went out automatically.


	4. Proceed With Caution

"'Nd das how we get n'ta th'shop." The lizard finished his spiel and waited, anxiously wringing his hands. 

Boss Dearil sat at the end of the long table shrouded in a magically created blanket of total darkness. Some speculated it was by design to intimidate those that came before him. Others that it was a tactic to keep his identity hidden so he knew no one could betray him… or if anyone was dumb enough to do so, there was only a select few who truly could. And there were even a few who thought the darkness WAS Boss Dearil. An embodiement of all the evil the city created, and fed off of the energy every ill deed generated. Whatever reason he did what he did, the Boss was a scary motherfucker to deal with in person.

Grey smoke curled out of the darkness like fingers seeking purchase on anything they could grasp. Like a ghostly spectre kept the Boss company that sought out the SOUL of one dumb enough to get within reach to feed the shroud surrounding it and the being that signed his checks. A deep, rumbling sigh sounded before yet more ghostly fingers of smoke bled into the light. It was a sign the Boss was thinking. A good sign! It meant the lizard wasn't as incompetent as Boss usually thought he was.

"I think your onto something, Lois." Dearil's tone was light, more smoke curling into the light as he spoke. "There's just one problem… How the fuck are we suppose to get this mechanic into that cunt's employ when she ain't even hiring!?" His voice slowly crescendoed from a light, quiet rumbling to a deep, earth shattering roar. It made Lois' eyes to round and the scales of his face to pale. Shit he pissed off the Boss. "Don't you think I haven't already thought of that!? Are you trying to insult my intelligence with this 'great idea' of yours?!"

"N-n-no Boss!! I-I jus' thou-"

"You THOUGHT!?" Lois began to retreat. He didn't want to be dusted. "I don't pay you to think! I pay you to do as you're fucking told, not think! Goddamn moron! G E T O U T T A M Y S I G H T!" The table trembled as Lois heard what had to be the Boss slamming his fists on the glossy wood.

He didn't need to be told twice. Lois tripped over himself to get out the door and slammed it behind him. He wanted to live another day. That would be the last time he tried to come up with a good idea.

Boss Dearil sat back in his seat with a huff and picked his cigar up to clutch between his teeth once more. Truth be told, he really hadn't thought about sending in his own mole. It really was a great idea the over in his mind. It was a much more secure investment of his resources than paying someone he didn't know and risk them tipping the owner off. She was already smart enough as it was amping up her security the way she had. If she knew they'd been scoping her place out…

No. He didn't want to think about that. 

Plus he would get regular updates on the little minx's business doings. If he were lucky and his guy got closer to her, they could find out more about her. Discover her weaknesses and use those to his advantage. A dark grin split his face. It was a win-win scenario. And he knew the perfect person for the job.

Dearil hit the call button on the tabletop buzzer box next to him. "Klyo." 

"Yes, Boss?" The female monster on the other end said breathily. It made his hands itch to choke the female. He had told her time and time again to leave her whoring elsewhere. But from the tone of her voice, she yet again disobeyed him. 

"Send in Frankie. I want to talk to him." He stated and waited for his secretary to confirm before clicking off the speaker. 

Frankie was not only a genius mechanic, but a hell of an actor. He was classically trained in the dramatic arts, and had been Dearil's mole for years. Guy could change his looks and personality at the drop of a hat and blend in with the crowd just as seamlessly. It had been a godsend getting the guy from their former rivals. He had been tantamount in many of their operations in recent years. 

Dearil leaned back in his chair and took a long, satisfying drag of his cigar. "I gotcha now." He chuckled, thinking of the shop's owner that had no idea just who was going to come asking for a job.

"Boss?" The familiar smooth tenor of the actor broke the silence of the conference room. "Ya wanted ta see me?"

"Frankie, my boy!" Dearil said as he let the dark shroud subside enough to allow his body from the shoulders down to be seen, but kept his face obscure. Like seeing something from your peripheral. Not quite in focus, but you could tell there was a face open to interpretation. He stood just shy of seven feet tall, a stocky muscular body filled in an expensive black on black three piece suit with a silver and red accented tie. Black leather gloves covered Dearil's hands with the cuffs of his blazer covering down far enough so there was no threat of exposing even what his species was. He was meticulous in concealing every bit of himself. But his tone belied the smile that was on his blurred face. "Good to see you again." He embraced the shorter, thinner blonde man like he was a long lost brother. "We got some business to discuss."

"M'all ears, Boss." Frankie was a fair skinned, blonde man in his mid 30's that stood right at six feet tall. He was handsome with a square jaw, straight nose, and dull grey eyes told of the years he'd seen working for organized crime. But he wasn't without conscious. He only hurt someone if he absolutely had to. Frankie was manipulative true enough, but he despised hurting people unnecessarily. Much more preferring to leave it to the Boss' goons to do the dirty work. It's what they were paid to do. The human took a seat near Dearil and folded his hands on the table before looking up at his employer.

"You know about that garage we been watching for a while now, yeah?"

"Dirty Girls. Yeah, I know o'it."

"Good. Seems the owner got smart and tightened security around the place." Dearil paused to see if his man caught on to where he was going with this. The gleeful smile that formed confirmed his man was still sharp as a razor's edge.

"Want me t'get a full timer?" Frankie asked, not even bothering to hide his excitement. While he enjoyed jobs he had to get in and get info for the gang, jobs that involved cars and mechanic work were his favorites.

"You got it. Monday morning I want you to go talk to whoever you must to get a job in there and gain their trust. Don't care how long it takes so long as you keep me informed. I'll pull our guys back and hit other places around the city while you work at getting me everything I need." Dearil then went on to explain in detail Frankie's job. He even left out a few details just to see if his guy could pick up things along the way without being asked. Mainly because he knew explaining the job was little more than a formality at this point. He had been in Dearil's employ long enough to know what he wanted, what he needed, and how much or little of it was required.

An hour later, Frankie left with a new identity and persona to fit the role he had to play. Dearil sighed and buzzed his secretary that he was done for the day. He was tired from the day's events. Combine that with he hadn't slept the night before, and he was ready to rip the head off the next idiot unfortunate enough to stumble into his office. While culling the herd wasn't a bad thing on a good day, today had been anything but good. 

From the moment he walked in and sat down, the reports that came in were not good. Many of the auto shops they had yet to raid had ramped up security measures in lieu of the recent activities of his gang. While their efforts were laughable at best compared to the little fox running the antique garage, it was still a pain to have just that much more to tear down and break to get to his prize. Then some of the businesses were refusing to pay their protection fees. He would have to dispatch his enforcers to drive home the need of their protection. 

News reached his ears of a small group of his lower ranking thugs that had taken it upon themselves to go on a home invasion spree in the middle class part of town. Somehow they managed to hurt a kid a couple of nights back. While he wasn't against a bit of… entrepreneurship from his guys, he preferred they keep their side gigs clean. That kid getting hurt had half the city up in fucking arms to find and lynch them like humans used to in the Old West days. So that was a mess he would have to deal with. Then he would have a little "talk" the offending parties. 

When he had thought the worst of the day had passed, the biggest headache he didn't want to deal with had shown up. The little four eyed, desk bitch that ran his off shore accounts came in to talk business. Dearil hated dealing with the little shit. He always had a know-it-all attitude that never failed to grate on the boss' nerves. But the human was a necessary evil to make sure his finances stayed secure and discrete. Last thing he needed was the feds to get wise to just how much he really had and how much he wasn't paying in taxes. 

After the bitch left, the managers of his legitimate establishments came in one by one to speak with him. Dearil owned a few strip clubs and high class restaurants around the city to keep up appearances. So these people he really had no choice but to entertain their presence… Didn't menan he had to like it, though. 

The monster that ran Sinners and Saints, a Temmie surprisingly, came before him first with request for more security. Normally he didn't tolerate the Temmies. He found them annoying and painfully simple for creatures that somehow survived the Underground. This one, however, was a cut above the rest. They used their innocent, unassuming looks to royally fuck up any of the more amourous clients if someone did something to the girls in their care. He respected this Temmie and readily granted the need for more security. But that had been the extent of his chairitable mood. The rest that came after the grey cat-like monster had done nothing but whine about staffing issues, money for raises they felt entitled to, and one even tried to blackmail him for more presence to ward off snotnosed kids that kept sneaking into his newest titty bar. 

So by the time that slimy, snivelling lizard Lois had come before him with his "great idea" (he wouldn't tell the lizard it really had been a great idea) he had been ready to strangle the next person that walked in. Maybe if he hadn't been in such a foul mood, he might have praised the lizard. Might have even given him a bonus. But, as it was, he tore the cowardly reptile a new cloaca… and, no, he wasn't the least bit sorry.

With a weary sigh, Dearil slipped into the next room to change into his street clothes. One of the perks of his men not knowing what he looked like meant he could slip through the stronghold as himself without being stopped for one reason or another. He was tired. He wanted to go home and sleep off his exhaustion. Recharge the magic he used both to obscure himself from everyone he'd dealt with throughout the day and what he used the night before. He didn't want or need the questions, odd conversation, or see the lesser members to cower as he passed. It would just aggitate his mood even more.

Maybe he should look into anger management… Nah!

After he changed and slipped into his riding jacket, Dearil put on his motorcycle helmet, flipped down the black tinted visor, and secured the chin strap as he strepped into the hall that ran parallel to the one that lead to his office. A few of his men greeted him absently as he walked past while others either cast him sideways glances with suspicious eyes or flat out ignored him. That was fine. He didn't care. Stepping out into the late afternoon sun of the chilly autumn day, he looked over at the goons that stood around his pearl black Rolls Royce. It was a nice car, sure, but like everything he owned it served a purpose. It was a decoy that left anywhere from ten minutes to an hour after he did. They were the only ones that knew he very rarely rode in it even if they had no idea what he looked like. They just knew he was the one with the powerful Ducati, and to time their leaving to look like he was still there after the bike left. 

He gave them a nod as he rode past on his bike to signal their countdown and revved the sleek machine between his legs before easing out into traffic.

It was freeing riding the motorcycle. All his worries, all his burdens as head of the largest syndicate in the city, all his anger at the incompetence that surrounded him daily all but disappeared. If he weren't so tired he would just ride around and clear his head before heading home. As it was his bed called to him. And he planned to answer it. 

The matte black machine eased around a corner at behest of its rider and wove like a snake through the crowded city streets toward the richer side of town where the city's one percent called home. It was a short ride, sure, but it was long enough for exhaustion to settle deep in Dearil's body. He sighed as he crept into the underground garage below his two story home and shut off his bike. Then he removed and absently hung his helmet on the handle bars before trudging upstairs to seek his bed.


	5. Observe The Speed Limit

Two days. 

Sans paused his newest video game, State of Decay II, to check his phone for what felt like the millionth time that day. Two days and only one text from Riff just to give him her number. That had been yesterday afternoon. She hadn't responded to his return text or his good morning text from earlier. Her friend (Maddie was it?) had said she owned an auto shop in town, but he knew she wouldn't be working today. It was Sunday. Shops were closed for the day. He looked at the time on the device's screen. It was just after two in the afternoon. Even he, the one who slept until noon almost every day, was at least up. Dressed was another subject, but he was up and moving around. So why-

His phone chimed almost as soon as he set it down. Sans snatched it back up and double tapped the screen to turn it back on. A smile instantly appeared on his face when he saw the name he had for Riff in his phone next to the new text notification. His phallange tapped the message bar and swiped across the screen to open directly to the messaging app. 

Sweetheart: "Hey! So sorry I haven't responded! Been working on a project. How you doing today?"

So she worked on the weekends too? The fuck? No wonder her friends were insistent on her going out more often. Well, now she had him. He wouldn't allow her to overwork herself anymore. 

Me: "y r u working its sunday…"

He sent the message and went back to his game. That was when Papyrus came barging in the front door. He slammed it open so hard the entire wall shuddered from the force. His brother's mouth twisted into a snarl upon spying him sitting on the floor in just a pair of boxers with "BONE ZONE" emblazoned across the crotch in large red front.

"SANS, WHY ARE YOU NOT DRESSED!?" Paps thundered and crossed his arms over his chest unapprovingly. "IT IS NEARLY TWO THIRTY AND HERE YOU ARE PLAYING VIDEO GAMES IN JUST YOUR UNDERWEAR!"

"Sorry, Paps," He greeted his brother with a grin hoping to soothe the younger skeleton's temper a bit. "Heh, _tibia_ honest I wasn' payin' attention to th'clock. It's Sunday." He lazed back against the cushions and looked back at his game. "Lazy day."

"LIKE HELL!" Papyrus stormed over and reached down at Sans's feet. His empty, scarred sockets met his brother's before he heaved and flipped the heavy piece of furniture. "GET YOUR LAZY ASS UP! I'M SICK OF SEEING YOU LOAF ABOUT!"

"The FUCK Paps!!" Sans rolled back and got to his feet to aim a snarl at his brother. "Ya can ask, y'know!"

"WATCH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, SANS!" That was laughable. Paps swore almost as much as he did. If not more! 

"Why? Ya swear almost s'much as me." He folded his arms over his broad ribcage, but knew he would relent this argument like he always did. Paps being the younger brother, Sans usually gave him his way. Even if it wasn't for long.

"YOU ARE NOT ME," Papyrus growled then planted one red booted foot onto the couch and pushed down to right it again. "YOU WILL WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, BROTHER, OR SO HELP ME I WILL BEAT IT OUT OF YOU!"

"Whatever you say, Paps." Sans grumbled, his expression and body language speaking volumes of his displeasure at his brother.

Of course, Papyrus dismissed Sans' mood with a wave of a gloved hand. "GOOD! NOW, GO UPSTAIRS, DRESS, AND GET THE HELL OUT OF THE HOUSE! METTATON IS SUPPOSED TO BE COMING OVER IN AN HOUR, AND I DO NOT WANT YOU HERE."

He didn't need to be told twice. Sans teleported to his room to get dressed. He remembered the one time he made the mistake of coming home when Mettaton was over visiting his brother. A shudder rattled his bones as he pulled on his jeans. Never, ever again did he want to see that much of his brother.

His phone began ringing then. Using his magic, he answered his phone without looking while he searched for a decent shirt. "City Morgue. You bag'em, we tag'em."

"And here I was hoping for Jello Shooters," the soft, feminine giggle of Riff drifted from the external speaker. "Might you have that number, sir?"

"'Fraid not, sweet cheeks," Sans grinned and pulled on a dark red shirt that hugged his ribs nicely. Before he hadn't really thought of where he was going to go. Now he had a destination. "But if ya ask real nice, we can do some body shots."

A pause as the double entendre settled in. 

Then he heard Riff laugh heartily. "Ew! Not off dead bodies!" She cried in mock disgust before sighing. He didn't miss the fact she ignored the other meaning behind his statement. Oh well, there was more where that came from. "So what are you up to today?"

"Gettin' kicked outta the house fer a bit." He answered honestly as he sat on his bed to slip on his boots. "How 'bout you? Ya said somethin' 'bout a project?"

A heavy sigh of what sounded like frustration was followed by the metalic clink of a tool being tossed. "Yeah. My dad's old Harley. I'm trying to fix it up and get it running again but…"

"Want some help?" He quickly offered. "I know a thing 'r two 'bout bikes." It wasn't a lie. He worked on his own bike, so using that knowledge to help her was the perfect excuse to hang out and get to know her better.

"Oh stars that would be amazing!" She sounded excited. Then he heard the distinct clicking of her fingers on her phone's keyboard right before he was pinged with a text. "There's my address. I live about half an hour outside the city. I only ask one thing,"

"Anythin', dollface," He slipped into his riding jacket and grabbed his bike keys off the dresser next to the door. "Whacha need?"

"Bring me a soda?" She asked, the question sounding a bit shy even to him. 

"What kind ya want?" He took her off speaker as he headed downstairs and absently waved to Paps on his way out the door. He really had no problem getting her anything. Hell, she was letting him come over and work on a bike. It was the least he could do.

"Anything not diet. And no beer," she added quickly, telling him more than once someone had brought alcohol with them. "I don't drink all that much."

"I gotcha." He chuckled as he reached his Hayabusa and swung a leg over it to sit down and balance it beneath him. "See ya in a bit." He hung up and typed her address into his phone's GPS. After he synced his helmet to his phone's Blutooth and secured it to his skull, Sans fired up the barely street bike and eased out of his driveway.

An hour and a missed pass of her driveway later, Sans' bike revved up the half paved, half gravel drive. She wasn't kidding when she said she lived half an hour away. She was practically in the country! He passed more cow and corn fields than he cared to count. But, he had to admit the ride had been nice. It also said that she was a bit of a hermit. At least to him she was. Kind of odd considering she had to deal with customers if she really did own a garage.

He pulled up beside her quaint little ranch style home then rolled around back. When he stopped to get the drinks, he found she had sent another text to inform him to pull around the back to "the shop." He had chuckled then, thinking she had a one or two door detached garage. The opened six bay building with nothing but old classics that greeted him was NOT what he had been expecting. And judging by the ceiling to floor tool wall lined with red SnapOn chests this was her personal garage. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she had a paint booth built into the back of the stand alone building. 

If there was any lingering doubts this was her place, the Fairlane she had been driving the night before last sitting in the farthest bay put those doubts to rest. Stars, the fantasies he had of bending her over that glossy dark blue hood… Of finding out with his teeth, tongue, and hands just how much of her was flesh and how much was bone...

It was enough to make a monster drool.

His thoughts haulted when he spied her just then. Wearing a black tank top and ripped jeans with more grease and oil stains than actual pale blue material (even had a perfect hand print on each ass cheek he very much wanted to place his own hands on) Riff moved from one tool chest to another swaying her hips to music playing in the pair of black and red trimmed Beats on her skull. Sans shut off his 'Busa and stood with it balanced between his legs as he watched her. 

She was beautiful to him inside and out. When they had danced after he made his verbal claim on her he got a peek at her SOUL. It had been a swirling kaleidoscope of cyan, dark blue, and green with a thin outline of red. Patience, Intregrity, and Kindness, with a hint of Determination. And in the center of it all had been a tiny white light in the shape of an inverted heart. The monster half of her SOUL. Sans had truly been awestruck at it, and wanted nothing more than to have her all for himself. But he was patient. He would win her heart, SOUL, and (eventually) body.

His bootheel caught the kickstand and flicked it out so he could prop the bike up. Then he grabbed the drinks from the storage space beneath his seat and sauntered over to lean against the frame of the opened garage door behind her dark red Thunderbird convertible. He could wait until she-

"Whoa!" A flash of violet zipped past his face and made him jump back. "The fuck…?" What was that!?

A soft chirp then a growl drew his attention to the trunk lid of the red car. There stood what had to be the most adorably angry thing he had ever seen. He bent down to study it closer.

It looked like a dragon… but not. The size of a small house cat, it was purple from the tip of its snarled up snout to the tip of it's tail. Small, rounded fins framed a mouthless head that housed large dark purple eyes with stark white pupils. It had wings in place of forelegs that it flared to made it look bigger and hind legs with clawless paws. Its whole body was a swirling mix of various shades of purple and had no sharp edges or straight lines. It was like a purple bubble blown up with magic and given form and life.

"I see you've met Vivi." Riff chuckled low. Sans jerked back his finger that had been about to poke the creature and straightened guiltily. The dragon-thing chirped then took off with a huff of lavender mist to fly over and land on Riff's shoulders, curling its stubby tail around her neck for support. Sans and it stared at each other for a moment before he looked at his intended mate.

"The hell is a 'Vivi?'" He asked with a confused tilt of his head. This woman just kept surprising him.

"This." Riff gave the dragon scritches behind its head fins and was rewarded with a squeaky purr. "Vivi is a physical manifestation of my magic. I created her when I was a kid. Think of her as my not-so-imaginary friend." Her eyelights softened as she stared lovingly at the little magic creature. It made Sans long to have her look at him like that. Like he meant the world and beyond to her. "She's harmless, but has a bit of a sassy attitude." Vivi huffed another light mist of lavender at her. "Well, you do. Now be nice to Sans. He's gonna help me get Daddy's bike running again."

He could almost swear he saw doubt cross the dragon's face before it flew off to go do whatever it did. Sans shook his head with a light chuckle then held out the plastic "Thank You" bag to her. "Not sure what ya liked, so I got a few things."

"Sweet!" She took the bag and pulled out the bottle of Big Red with a squeal. "I love this stuff!" Then twisted the top to crack the seal and took a deep swallow of the fizzy sweet treat.

'Oh stars she had to pick _that_ one…' He had gotten it as a joke, but watching her suck down the contents… Red beads of sweat gathered across his forehead. He knew she didn't mean to look absolutely sexy as she drank the bright red soda. That he should look anywhere but the small red drop of drink that lazily dripped down her chin to her neck… Then…

"S-So uh…" Scratching the back of his skull, Sans finally tore his eyelights from her before she caught him eyeing her like a starved man eyed a rare steak. "Where's this bike that's givin' ya problems?"

"Oh yeah," she lifted the bottom hem of her tank to casually swipe at her chin. "She's back here." Riff turned to walk to the back corner of her shop. He forced down a groan at seeing the soft porcelain skin of her stomach. Then he spotted a series of holes in the backside of her jeans that followed the middle hem and a horizontal rip high on the inseam. 

'Imma die today…' He thought melodramatically. She was testing his self restraint without even trying. He absently thought what would happen if she actively did it.

He spied the mess that had once been a beautiful road beast tucked along the side wall amid a mess of tools and Harley Davidson manuals. The forks were bent at odd angles, the handlebars twisted and the chrome cracking, and the frame was a mangled mess. The fuel tank, tins, seat, tires, and engine were all missing, but he figured that was due to her removing them to work on or replace a piece at a time. He let out a low whistle and placed his hands on his hips.

"What happened to this?" He reached and absently picked at disconnected lines then moved the middle headlight assembly back into its broken cradle. "Was it wrapped 'round a tree or somethin'?"

Sans looked over when Riff didn't answer. Her hands were fisted in her pockets with her shoulders slumped inward ever so slightly. Her eyelights focused solely on her father's bike and were so dim they almost disappeared. It was a look of hollow sadness. Like just looking at the twisted metal broke her heart all over again. It didn't take a genius to understand what that look was born from. 

"Nevermind," He leaned away and tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, "don't think I wanna know. So what's gotcha scratchin' yer head?"

It was like a light switch flipped in her attitude. One moment she was sad and reserved, the next she was visibly frustrated as she pulled a hand from her pocket and flicked it over to the corner. "That fucker won't turn over. Got it mocked up to crank and fire when it's assembled properly." She walked over to a rolling tray with a laptop set up next to the machine the engine in question was mounted on and hooked up to and tapped the spacebar to turn the screen back on. He saw she had been reading an article on Harley trouble shooting before he came over. "Fucker simply will not fire." 

He didn't say anything as he walked over to the rig and looked over everything. She had done a good job cleaning it up and replacing the seals and gaskets. But without tearing into it himself, he wouldn't really know the problem. 

"Hate t'do this, but I gotta take it apart to find the problem," she groaned before he continued, "But I'm sure it's something you might not know about. For all yer knowledge and skill, bikes are different beasts." He winked at her with a grin for her to know he wasn't knocking her skill. Hell, he couldn't work on a car to save his life. But give him a bike and he was in his element. "But I'm gonna have t'charge ya for my services."

He wanted to laugh at the look she gave him. "How much do you want?" Her arms folded under her breasts as she gave him a sullen pout. As if he'd charge her money! No, he had a much better reward in mind.

He walked over and pulled her into his arms. A wicked grin split his skull as his eyelights flared mischievously. "Money ain't what I want, dollface." His voice dropped an octave. He felt a small shiver travel her body before her sockets widened at what he may ask for. "A date is my askin' price. And a proper kiss."


	6. Easy On The Throttle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a HUGE thank you to both ladyjssem for helping me through the stagnant patch this chapter put me through, and Miracle of Unicorns (or Mira for short) for becoming my Beta!! This chapter just simply did not want to be written, and without their help it wouldn't have been ready on time. But here it is! It's a bit shorter than the others, but I hope the quality of it makes up for the lack of quantity ^^

Sans had to admit: the day couldn't have turned out any better than if he'd planned it. 

After Riff turned into a glowing blushing mess at his "price"(which he teased her about and made her blush even more,) he had set about taking apart the engine that had been giving her grief. It didn't take him long to locate the problem. Or rather problems in this case. The wreck the bike had been in ruined many of the electronic and physical internal parts. He set them all aside and explained each to her in turn. Riff had sat on a rolling stool right next to him and listened intently while asking questions as they came to mind. Her knowledge with engines in general was extensive and impressive, but as he had stated before: motorcycles were completely different beasts. He could literally see the wheels in her mind turn at each new bit of information he provided. She absorbed it all like a dry sponge did water. 

He even tested his limits a time or two and got close enough to her he could smell her natural scent. Sure he had been at the club, but all the bodies and the alcohol had drown out her scent to the point he hadn't been able to pick it up. Now? Sweet pea and violets drifted up from her to his nasal cavity. He leaned over the first time he got close and inhaled deep and soft. It left him light headed and wanting to bury his face in the crook of her neck to try and drown himself in her scent.

Of course every time she realized just how close he was she would blush that pretty violet color and scoot away enough so they weren't quite so close. He would just give her a sideways smirk then turn his attention back to the work at hand. 

She really was too cute to be real.

They had sat in the garage until after the sun went down just talking and sharing stories. He even got her to laughing with his crappy puns a few times. When the lights came on inside the shop, Riff stood and stretched from being in her position so long. He heard her joints pop and complain as she groaned from relieving the cramped joints and muscles. Was it bad even that was a turn on? Maybe he was becoming a bit obsessed…

Nah!

Sans was thinking of what he was going to do as she activated the doors to close and followed him outside. She was clearly getting ready to go inside, and he wasn't ready to leave just yet. He had enjoyed his time with his girl and got to learn more about her. Plus she hadn't answered him about the date. So he offered to make her dinner.

"You cook?" Her incredulous look coupled with the uncensored shock in her tone made him chuckle. 

"What? Think just cuz I'm made of bones I can't cook?" He blinked at her then bent down close so his mouth was right next to her ear hole and purred, "Trust me, I got somethin' else in mind to devour… But I think impressin' ya with a good meal is the better option."

He held his hands clasped behind his back as he straightened and noticed her blushing so hard she was glowing and her eyelights had gone out. Vivi sat perched on Riff's shoulder and looked up at its creator curiously. Like it had never seen her like this before. 

Good. He liked knowing he had that effect on her. As he turned to head to the house, she seemed to gather her wits and jogged to catch up to him. "Really, Sans, you don't have to do that. You're already doing enough by helping me with my dad's bike." 

"Sweetheart, there is one very important thing ya gotta know 'bout me," the crimson glow of his magic lit the knob of her back door (heh) and opened it so he could step inside, "I don' take no for an answer."

The entire time he fixed dinner, burgers with all the fixings and homemade fries, he ignored her protests with a practiced selective hearing he'd honed over the years with Paps. So tuning out her insistence he not cook wasn't hard. That was until he thought he heard her say something about a blow job…

"What was that??" He whipped his head around to see her sitting at the kitchen island with a shit eating grin over his shoulder. His sockets were wide and a faint red blush dusted his cheekbones. Had she…?

"Knew it." She purred, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her own sockets half lidded as she stared at him sassily. "You weren't listening were you, Hot Rod?"

He gave her an unamused look that only served to notch her smirk even higher. She was poking fun at him. A small growl rolled from him when he turned back to his task so she couldn't see his face. Sly little she-devil figured him out. Then a grinned to himself.

Two could play that game.

"If yer offerin', it'd be rude of me to decline." He shrugged before taking the fries from the oven to season. Her near inaudible gasp made him chuckle. Yeah, she had offered to blow him. As much as he really wanted to call her bluff, he would hold back…

Said Sans never. He was not letting that go.

"Unless yer all talk and no play." Turning with two plates in hand, Sans growled softly as he approached her to emphasize his statement. Then he leaned down to purr next to her skull, "Cuz I ain't one to appreciate bein' led on."

Instead of answering him, Riff snatched the burger off the plate he set in front of her and chomped down on at least a quarter of it. Then she pointed to her mouth as if to say "Can't talk. Food is in the way." Her eyelights flashed what could only be a triumphant glint at the fact she didn’t have to answer him. Well, she had to swallow her food some time. 

"Not gettin' off that easy, sweetheart," He said before taking a sizeable bite out of his own burger. He would bide his time and wait until she finished to get her again. 

Dinner was interesting. Sans, between bites of food, made good on his promise. He used his magic to tease her, brushing along her waist or back of her neck, along with looks that promised a good time when he finally got her in his bed… Or hers. He wasn't picky. And he knew she thought the same. The way she reacted gave him no room to think otherwise. Her breath would hitch or her eyelights would dialate ever so slightly, or a small shiver would make her skin form chill bumps along her arms. All of it signals he was getting to her. He could smell her rising want, and it fed his own, testing his self restraint to the fullest.

So, by the time they were sitting on her dark brown leather sectional in her living room watching some comedy he wasn’t paying the slightest bit attention to, he was all but ready to have her beneath him squirming and moaning his name. She had excused herself to go shower briefly and changed into a pair of black leggings with white Halloween designs and a dark blue tank top while he made himself comfortable on the couch. Now, half way through the movie, she was tucked against his side watching the large flat screen mounted on her wall while all he could think of was what he wanted to do to her, how he wanted to do it, and how often. His head laid back against the top of the couch and his sockets closed. Sans really, really was trying to behave… He didn't want her to think all he wanted from her was a roll between the sheets. She was so much more than that to him. But the moment he felt her hand rest on top of his femur and her snuggle more closely against him his control snapped. 

Stars be damned he wanted her! 

He heard her squeak in surprise at their sudden shift in position. His hands grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down onto the couch at the same time he moved to hover over her, one knee supporting his weight on the cushion between her thighs. Her wide sockets stared up at him with confusion shining in her eyelights. He brushed the backs of his phanalges down her cheekbone to her jaw then slipped one beneath her chin to tilt her head up to his face as he bent down to see how she tasted…

That was the idea anyways.

He felt flesh against the soft cartilage that served as lips. It took him a moment to remember she didn't have lips like a full human. She was like him: soft cartilage that helped her emote with her mouth in place of lips. His sockets blinked open to find she had gently placed a hand against his teeth to stop him from kissing her. 

"Um… I uh… Don't kiss on first dates." The sincerity in her apologetic smile made his SOUL skip a beat. "Not that I don't want to, I do, but…"

"Nah, I got ya." Sans said, his eyelights softening in understanding as he leaned up to press his teeth to her forehead in a pseudo kiss. Then he fit himself between her back and the back of the couch and wrapped one arm around her waist. He pulled her close to his front, but kept his pelvis away from hers…for obvious reasons. "I shoulda asked." After tucking a throw pillow between his skull and the arm rest, he slid his other arm beneath her skull so she could use it as a pillow. 

It felt nice to lay there with her. He was used to females, monster and human, letting him do as he pleased with them. But Riff hadn't. She had what the others didn't: self respect. Sure, he would love to find out just how much bone was exposed through her skin and just what made her tick. Hell, he had fantasized about what she would taste like on his tongue, what she would feel like writhing beneath him in complete abandon, and what she would sound like moaning his name and his alone. But he would respect her boundaries. He would go at her pace unless he felt she needed a swift push in the right direction.

They laid there and ended up flipping on Netflix. Riff had let him watch what he wanted since she had picked the movie. They laid in companionable silence watching Epic Movie. Riff had groan at the choice but didn't stop him. It was his turn afterall. Red laughed at the movie, but half way through the movie had to turn it down. Riff had fallen asleep at some point and was snoring softly and drooling on his arm. He didn't care. He wasn't about to wake her. Looking over at the other end of the large sectional, he held out his hand and made her large fleece blanket hover to him. Then he awkwardly spread the blanket over the two of them and snuggled down to finish his movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be every Wednesday/Thursday unless otherwise specified


End file.
